


What Even Is Baseball??

by Unforth



Series: SPN Kink Bingo 2017 [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BDSM, Baseball, Dom Castiel, Fluff, M/M, Mild Dom Drop, POV Castiel, Spanking, Sub Dean Winchester, Supernatural Kink Bingo 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2019-01-06 11:13:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12210120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforth/pseuds/Unforth
Summary: Castiel doesn't know what to think nor what to expect when Dean makes an unusual request: to forego their usual aftercare ritual in favor of going to a baseball game together.Written for SPN Kink Bingo 2017, square: Aftercare





	What Even Is Baseball??

**Author's Note:**

> Heya guys, long time no post! I think the almost two months that have passed may be the longest I've ever gone without posting anything new since I started using AO3. Sorry about that - I've been a busy bee, working away at my story for the Dean/Cas Big Bang, but it's more-or-less finished now. On November 3rd, 2017, I'll be posting a complete story that'll be right around 170k words (I have a little more editing to do so I can't be sure of the exact word count but it's currently 168k words, so) - A/B/O, alpha prostitute Dean, alpha businessman Castiel...and I've been partnered with the wonderful diminuel (aka Sillyblue) which is always very, very excited...[here's the official promo for it](http://deancasbigbang.tumblr.com/post/165447143251/title-coming-to-terms-author-unforth-artist)...so that's something that ya'll will (hopefully) look forward to. Working on that, plus a rough first trimester, really did a number on my productivity over August and September...I've also been having some problems with my back, which makes sitting uncomfortable, which makes writing a challenge. Basically: it's been a frustrating few months but the monster of a story is finished and I'm glad to be back and posting. :)
> 
> Over the next few weeks/months, I'll be tackling my SPN Kink Bingo and SPN A/B/O Bingo squares, try to complete some more of the prompts I got during the summer, and I've got a handful of longer prompt fics to write; and when all that's done I'll be returning to my WIP. I expect to take an expected hiatus starting around March, whenever my second child is born - it's a boy, I just found out, and I'm pretty excited.
> 
> Thanks, everyone, and I hope you enjoy!!
> 
> This story was written for SPN Kink Bingo. You can read more about the challenge [here](http://spnkinkbingo.tumblr.com/about).
> 
> All Kink Bingo entries are cross posted to Tumblr. Feel free to follow me at [unforth-ninawaters.](http://unforth-ninawaters.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Oh, and the other big thing going on - I'll be modding/hosting a challenge - MCU Kink Bingo - on Tumblr - so if that sounds like your cup of tea, [check it out!](http://mcukinkbingo.tumblr.com/). Sign ups open October 1st.

“What is the purpose of the pitcher’s current actions?” asked Castiel, frowning down at the baseball diamond. The pitcher hurled a third pitch so far from the hitter that the catcher had to leap to catch it. The game was incomprehensible; memorizing the names of the positions had, at least, been easy, but the rest made no sense.

_This game is pointless. Why did Dean want to do this?_

“He’s throwing balls,” Dean explained. “Intentionally throwing bad pitches so that the batter won’t get a hit.”

“Then why doesn’t the hitter…batter…simply move to a position from which he can hit the ball?” Castiel said as a fourth pitch passed behind the batter’s back. The umpire made a gesture and the batter tossed his bat toward his teammates and trotted toward first base. “If the point of the game is to obtain twenty-seven outs and not permit the opposition to reach base, why would a pitcher purposefully throw poor pitches? And why is that base called first base, instead of the actual first one being called first base? Why does the second baseman not stay near his white square? Why is there a player between second and third, but not between first and second? Why are foul balls considered out of play, but still count as in play for the purposes of catching them? What’s the point of demarking certain areas of the field as ‘out of bounds’ only to arbitrarily assign times when they’re in bounds? And—”

“Cas!” Dean interrupted, laughing. Castiel turned toward him; even as Dean laughed, he winced as he shifted in their uncomfortable plastic seats.

_I knew this wasn’t a good idea for aftercare. How can I take care of him in an environment such as this? But this is what he wanted…this is supposed to be for him and instead I’m being obnoxious, and after I spanked him so hard he has to sit in these brutally uncomfortable chairs and…_

_No. This was his idea. This is what he wanted. My role is to make this as enjoyable, easy, and relaxing for him as I can._ Not _to ask questions about the nonsensical nature of this sport._

“Alright…I’ll try to answer all of those.” To Castiel’s surprise, Dean didn’t sound frustrated. He sounded…happy? Thrilled, even. Exhilaration brightened his cheeks and his eyes twinkled in the sunlight. “The batter can’t move over, he—”

A resounding _crack_ of wood on leather interrupted Dean and he leapt to his feet, arms in the air, cheering as the stadium erupted. The ball sailed toward the outfield as the two batters-turned-runners sprinted around the bases and the outfielders paced beneath, watching the arcing path the ball took. One crashed into the back wall with a _smack_ and a _thud_ as the ball landed in the bleachers. An enthusiastic fan lifted it and the crowd went wild.

“See?” said Castiel as the two men crossed home plate and the furor died down. “That’s precisely what I meant. If the pitcher hadn’t thrown balls to the previous batter, the Reds would only scored one run instead of two.”

“It’s not as simple as that.” Dean’s voice was breathy with excitement and happiness. Castiel thought he’d never looked so beautiful.

 _See? This_ was _a good idea!_

“Baseball is _way_ nuanced,” Dean said. “The pitcher knows the stats and hit patterns for every batter he opposes, and he plays a game of statistics. The guy he intentionally walked – Joey Votto – is the hottest hitter on the Reds, and especially tends to get hits off right-handed pitchers, which this pitcher is. The next guy in the line up is ice cold – the chances of Votto getting a hit were pretty damn high, whereas the chances of Scooter getting a hit were low. So the pitcher played the odds – and 9 times outta 10, that’s a winning formula.”

“But we saw the tenth time?”

“Exactly! As to that other stuff you asked…” Dean launched in a detailed, expert explanation of the nuances of baseball, the history of the naming conventions, why the positions were as they were, to a level of detail that Castiel hadn’t realized Dean knew. The information was fascinating, and listening to Dean as the game resumed its lazy rhythm of pitches, swings, strikes, balls and outs was soothing. Usually when Dean watched baseball, Castiel busied himself with other tasks. It wasn’t until Dean had requested they go to a game _together_ as aftercare for their rough scene of the night before that Castiel realized that Dean might _want_ Castiel involved in his hobby.

 _Really? It never dawned on me? Dean doesn’t like doing_ anything _solo. If I’d expressed the least interest in baseball, if I’d sat with him even once, he’d have been thrilled. I need to be honest with myself – if I’m not, how can I be the dom that Dean needs, the dom he deserves? I never watched baseball with Dean because I_ _didn’t want to watch baseball._

_I’m beginning to perceive what an error in judgement that was…_

_…this is interesting, and surprisingly…kind of fun…_

_For Dean’s sake, and for my sake, I will do better._

A thrilling inning had Dean on the edge of his seat watching the game and Castiel on the edge of his seat watching Dean. Subtle shifts in Dean’s balance and twinges to his facial expression spoke to the physical discomfort he was in, and Castiel suspected only Dean’s enthusiasm for the on-field events kept his pain from being more intrusive. The anticipation of the Reds scoring multiple runs died when the opposing outfielder caught a ball hit well shy of the back fence and with a frustrated groan, Dean sank back in his chair, squawked, grimaced, and gave Castiel a sheepish look.

“I’m okay,” Dean promised. “I’m having fun.”

_I should be taking care of you. You were so good for me yesterday. This isn’t taking care of you, this is hurting you._

_But this is what Dean_ wanted _and I will believe him and support him and trust his self-assessment._

 _I need to do better, and I_ will _do better, starting right now_.

“I know you are,” said Castiel warmly. “I’m glad. I was thinking – would you like me to obtain concessions?”

“‘Obtain concessions,’” Dean mocked with a grin. “Dude, go buy us some grub. I’d love a hotdog and a brew.”

“Excellent. I’ll be back shortly.”

When they’d come in, Castiel had noticed that the main ballpark store sold cushions emblazoned with the Reds logo and made to fit the stadium chairs. Departing his seat, Castiel navigated the crowded, convoluted corridors until he reached the store and, after considering his options, bought two of the cushions and a jersey for the player named Votto, about whom Dean had seemed in turns enthusiastic and critical. Bag in hand, he then got them each a hotdog and purchased a beer for Dean, and returned to their seats. As Dean watched, astonished, Castiel handed him the food, gestured for him to stand, arrayed the covers on the back and base of Dean’s chair, and draped the jersey over Dean’s shoulders.

“Cas, you didn’t have to…”

“I know,” said Castiel. “I wanted to.”

“Thanks,” Dean muttered.”

_This game, this experience, this time together, was what you requested from me. I may not understand why you value this, but you clearly do, and it’s my responsibility to respect that you enjoy this, learn why this is important to you, and do my best to meet you where you are._

_In strange ways, aftercare is no different from a scene._

_I wonder what it would be like to do a scene at a baseball game…_

Castiel’s shy smile was met with an equally shy look on Dean’s face as he settled tentatively onto the cushions. No sooner did he find them plush than he leaked a relieved sigh, slumped back, and lifted a leg to drape it over the vacant seat before them.

“Oh, yeah…that’s way better…”

“I’m sorry I didn’t think of it sooner,” said Castiel.

“Don’t be,” said Dean with a shrug, taking his hotdog and passing Castiel his. “This is awesome.”

“Can you explain to me why the Reds are switching pitchers in this instance?”

“Sure thing! See…”

The game passed, the tempo growing familiar, comforting, and Castiel increasingly grew to understand why, of all activities, Dean had chosen _this_ as aftercare. Dean was relaxed, at ease, gesturing so enthusiastically that he splattered a nearby seat with mustard, talking with his mouth full, cheering and booing and shouting and, at one point, urging the umpire to throw out a player who had committed some infraction Castiel hadn’t caught. When the game inexplicably paused halfway through the seventh inning for a ritual that Dean called ‘the seventh inning stretch,’ Dean even leapt to his feet, swept Castiel in his arms and danced enthusiastically to a song espousing the virtues of Cincinnati as a hometown.

By the end of the game, Dean seemed reborn, and Castiel’s faint signs of dom-drop had faded. His sub was happy and content, aglow with pleasure that his team had won. With such a vision before him, how could Castiel continue to worry?

_I did good. I gave him what he wanted, and he’s happy. Perfect._

“This was great, Cas,” Dean gushed as they joined the tide of people making their way down the stairs toward the parking lot, all chattering happily. “And hey, this time, _I_ got to teach _you_ a lesson or two.” Dean’s tone was smug yet sweet, contrite and hopeful.

“Dean, you teach me new things every day.” Dean flushed, adorable, and Castiel leaned forward and brushed a soft kiss over his lips. “Every single day.” A passerby goggled at the vision of two men kissing, Castiel’s nerves flared, then eased as the woman whooped a cheer and Dean’s cheeks darkened.

“Maybe…maybe we can do this again sometime?” Dean asked hopefully.

“Next week? That’s when they return ‘home,’ correct?” Castiel said.

“Really?”

“That’s what the schedule said.”

Dean shook his head. “I mean, you really wanna do this again? Together?”

“Yes, Dean, I’d really like to attend another game with you.”

“Awesome!”

They parted from the crowd as people spread out, heading for disparate corners of the lot and granting them a semblance of privacy.

“And I was thinking, for the night before…”

Despite Castiel’s worries, Dean had been right. This was the _perfect_ aftercare for their more strenuous scenes. And Castiel had ideas…so many ideas…

Dean was blushing brilliant red by the time he started the car and Castiel finished describing what he wanted, but he nodded agreement with every point.

“We’re going to have so much fun,” Castiel promised.

_I’m glad he convinced me to expand my definition of aftercare…outside of scenes, this is the happiest I’ve seen him in a long time…_

“We always do…I can’t wait, Cas.”

_…I hope to see him this happy many times in the future…_

_...I truly do learn new things from him every day. I’m so glad he’s my sub, and I’m so glad he accepts me as his dom._

“Me neither, Dean. Me neither.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, everyone!


End file.
